


The Scholar's Dilemma

by sibylla



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibylla/pseuds/sibylla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m going with you,” Merlin reiterates. “You can’t tell me what to do.”</p><p>“As the son of the statesman and general, I think you’ll find that I can,” Arthur retorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scholar's Dilemma

He’s wrapped in an airy white _tunica_ , bare legs stretched in front of him as he lies on a red-velvet chaise. The walls of the sitting room are cream-colored and ornamented with tiled murals depicting Achilles' battle with Hector of Troy. Golden vases sit on dainty tables.

The chaise is pushed against a wall, and above his head, an open window lets in a cool breeze. It flutters the pages of the book he’s trying to read, an account of a war fought centuries ago.

The door creaks open and Arthur strides in, crimson mantle flowing behind him. He's beautiful as always, Merlin thinks, smiling when he sees the silver metal eagle pinned to his chest — a keepsake Merlin had given him for his name day. “Arthur,” Merlin purrs and tosses the book to the carpeted floor. “Come here.”

“Lazing about, are we?”

“Studying.”

“Liar.” Arthur takes a seat by Merlin’s side and leans down to kiss his cheek.

“Mmm.” Merlin makes a noncommittal noise and skims up the back of Arthur’s neck to bury his fingers in his hair. “It’s only noon. Aren’t you supposed to be in the gymnasium?”

“I have news.” Arthur braces one hand on the chaise by Merlin’s shoulder and nuzzles the side of his face . “Father wants me to lead the militia.”

“What! But—” Merlin pulls away from Arthur’s soft kisses. Uther had always been firmly opposed to sending Arthur to war. “Why has he changed his mind?”

“The attack didn’t go as planned. The City has suffered losses.” Arthur’s mouth is a thin, unhappy line. "You _know_ this, Merlin.”

“Of course, but—”

“I leave in two days.”

Merlin’s heart seizes with sudden fear. “What on earth? How can you? It’s preposterous!” Arthur gives him a troubled look and Merlin reaches to grab his hand. “You can’t go.”

Arthur’s mouth twists downward. “Merlin—”

“Thousands have died!” _My own father among them, in Uther’s service_. “What is he _thinking_ , asking you to go out there?”

“He will instill me as commander-in-chief of the army. He expects that I will gain Athens the victor.” Arthur’s tone is heavy. Merlin’s mouth flattens in a thin line. _No, no, no._

“This is folly. _Folly_. The presence of one man will not change the course of the war.” Arthur doesn’t meet his eyes, so Merlin takes his chin in his hands and tilts his head so that their gazes meet. “Arthur—”

“I have to do it, Merlin,” Arthur says quietly. “We can’t lose more lives. I’m a good strategist, the best, my father says—if I can make a difference—”

“It’s _dangerous!_ ”

“So?” Arthur disentangles his fingers from Merlin’s. “My life,” he says stiffly, “is not worth more than those of my men.”

Merlin fists his hands in Arthur’s thin _tunica_ , drawing him near. Arthur is broad and golden, smells of grass and air and sweat. “You are worth more than all of them.”

“Listen to me—”Arthur begins in a ragged voice, attempting to pull away.

“No.” Merlin tugs Arthur’s hand so it rests over his own heart. “ _Tell_ your father you won’t go.”

“I…can’t do that.”

Merlin’s resolve hardens. He pushes Arthur away and swings his legs over the side of the chaise. “In that case, I’m going with you.”

Arthur’s mouth drops and his eyes go momentarily bug-eyed. “No! No, no, no. By the gods, Merlin, you are going nowhere near the battle camp.”

“I’m going with you,” Merlin reiterates. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“As the son of the statesman and general, I think you’ll find that I _can_ ,” Arthur retorts. “You’ll stay safely in the palace.”

“You overbearing prat! If I want to enlist, the army will be happy to have me—”

“The enlistments have to go through _me_ first. I won’t let you step a foot near the battlefield. It’s dangerous.” Arthur tugs Merlin’s bare elbow, attempting to pull him closer.

Merlin sighs and turns his head, fitting his lips to Arthur’s for a brief second. “How can you expect me to let you go? If you don’t come back—”

“I will.” Arthur cups the side of Merlin’s face. “Don’t question such a thing. You on the other hand, your chances of survival I doubt.”

Merlin snorts. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You won't enlist. I forbid it. I will rope you to a pillar inside your chambers—”

“I want to see you try.” Merlin narrows his eyes at him.

“Oh, I will. I have been trained for battle since birth, you haven’t—don’t give me that look. You think those men, the soldiers, don’t have people who care and worry for them? Mothers, brothers, sisters, wives—”

“You have none of those, my lord,” Merlin points out.

“— _lovers_.” Arthur gives him an intense look, and something deep inside Merlin goes hot. “You think they want their men in battle? But does the militia ever not have a steady surplus of men?”

“That is because,” Merlin says, leaning his face into Arthur’s palm, “they take their lovers with them.”

“Merlin. They are warriors—they have trained together, fought together. You are a scholar.” Arthur rubs a hand through Merlin’s hair. “Delicate, lovely—something I will not risk—”

Merlin huffs out a breath and bats Arthur’s hand away. “Stop it. I’m not a maid. I can fight.”

“Not against a Spartan warrior wielding a pike.”

“I’ve saved your life countless times,” Merlin hisses, now more than upset. He drags Arthur forward by his toga and kisses him. “Let us come to this agreement,” he breathes and presses up against Arthur’s broad chest. “How about—I follow you to the battle camp, no further.”

“No.” Arthur makes a growling sound in his throat and Merlin finds himself pushed back onto the chaise. Arthur climbs over him, covering him with his muscular body. Arthur mouths down the pale column of Merlin’s neck, making him shudder.

“You’re trying to distract me.” Merlin pushes at Arthur’s head, but Arthur stays put and hums against Merlin’s skin. His hands travel up and down his torso, feeling out the sensitive areas on his sides through the thin cloth.

“Take this off,” Arthur grunts, fumbling with the clasp of the toga over one shoulder.

“Arthur, not here—this room's for studying—”

“And you were getting a lot done, I noticed.” Arthur lifts his head to smirk at him. Merlin flushes, utterly conscious of the book he had tossed to the ground.

“I don’t care—Arthur—stop it!”

Merlin tries to keep his train of thought as Arthur peels the layered white garment off of his torso. He’s kissing a trail down his sternum, now, and making a detour dangerously close to his right nipple—

“Arthur!” Merlin yanks Arthur’s head up and looks him in the eye. “Stop it, you arse. We were having a conversation—”

“I believe we have closed that matter.” With that insufferable smirk still on his face, Arthur swiftly lowers his head and latches onto Merlin’s nipple. A jolt of pleasure travels straight to Merlin’s cock, and he groans and tilts his head to the side, breathing heavily as Arthur begins to roll the nipple between his lips, occasionally flicking it with the tip of his wet tongue.

“I’m c-coming with you.” Merlin gasps sharply as Arthur bites down on the small nub. Arthur relieves the pain by laving at it with the flat of his tongue. As if that wasn’t enough, he hollows his cheeks and sucks—suckling at it like a delicious, sugary treat.

“Oh, ah—Arthur—ah!”

Merlin’s head lolls back as Arthur sucks and nibbles at his little nipple; the pleasurable jolts carry all the way to the tips of his toes and Merlin knows that his cock is leaking—he feels the liquid wetting the material of his undergarments.

Arthur pulls back and removes the rest of the white linen from Merlin’s body until he’s unwrapped and lying on it like a present. Merlin pushes himself shakily to his elbows and stares down at his chest: his right nipple has flushed red. He meets Arthur’s smirking eyes and turns away, blushing to the tips of his ears.

“You're too precious,” Arthur says quietly, laying a hand flat on Merlin’s chest. He meets Merlin’s gaze with a look of dark-eyed passion that sets Merlin’s heart racing. “I won’t risk you, not on my own life.”

“I can’t just sit here waiting—”

“That’s too bad,” Arthur says and dips down to kiss him again.

This war against the Spartans is the greatest they’ve fought in modern days. It will go down in the annals of time. Arthur will be a commander of the Attican army, expected to lay his life down in honor and glory and all those other rubbishy things. A monster of fright squirms its way out of the pit of his stomach. “Arthur, you—can’t leave. Please, you might die if you go—”

Exasperated, Arthur slumps onto Merlin, burying his head in the crook of Merlin’s neck. "It will be for Athens,” he mutters.

“And me—what of me?”

Arthur’s fingers tighten on his hipbones. Arthur’s erection hasn’t quite died down as his has; he feels the hardness resting against his belly. “I …did not want to make that choice.”

Merlin tightens his fingers in Arthur’s hair as Arthur mouths gentle kisses across the hollow of his neck. “Then don’t—don’t make the choice. Either stay here or take me with you!”

Arthur pulls back, rests on his elbows above Merlin. “No means no, Merlin.”

“You don’t love me?”

This makes Arthur bare his teeth. “You know exactly how much I love you. More than the moon loves the stars and the old sky loves mother earth—nothing compares.” Merlin’s breath stutters as Arthur cups his face with both hands, the emotion in his eyes so fierce that Merlin wants to succumb to it. His body—his mind, his soul—needs it.

“Show me.”

Merlin trails a finger down Arthur’s cheek as the blond man lowers his head to ravish Merlin’s mouth with his tongue. Merlin’s not unduly worried that someone will walk in. No one comes into this part of the palace, and besides, it wasn’t as it the entirety of the City didn’t know that the statesman’s son was seeing a scholar’s apprentice.

Arthur has shed both his gilded mantle and _tunica_ , and they rub together in a pleasurable rocking motion. His golden body is hard and oiled—Merlin slides his hands down the smooth expanse of his back, feeling him shudder the slightest bit when he scrapes his nails down his skin.

“What shall I do when you’re gone,” Merlin pants as Arthur trails his fingers down his stomach. If Arthur won’t listen to him, he’ll approach the situation from another angle. “You know, I’ll be lonely and—if you’re not here—”

Merlin would never lie with another man or woman, but Arthur needed to be persuaded. Perhaps jealousy would do the trick.

Arthur makes an irritated sound and grabs the base of Merlin’s cock. “What are you implying?” he growls, looking over Merlin, every inch the possessive warrior. “You are _mine_ ,” he says, low in his throat, and pumps Merlin’s cock roughly, making him whine and press his face into the pillow. “No one is allowed to touch you.” He crushes Merlin into the chaise with his body. Merlin can’t think straight anymore, can’t focus on the fact that he’s angry—it’s just Arthur and Arthur and Arthur. Arthur over him, heavy and musky, pressing him down, the tantalizing pressure on his cock, melting his insides into warm, messy syrup—Arthur pinching and pulling his nipple into a hard, tight bud—Arthur’s breath scalding hot on the underside of his jaw, his wet tongue lapping over the sore bruises on his kiss-bitten neck—

Arthur does something clever with his hand, squeezes, and twists and pulls the head of Merlin’s cock almost to the point that he’s crying out loud from the pleasure-pain. Arthur bites down on a tendon on his neck, and Merlin moans and throws his head back. He twitches and thrusts his hips as Arthur strokes a finger up and down his limp shaft. “We shouldn’t—ahhh— _ah_ —” he breaks off as Arthur bites his neck. _Damn_ him. “Stop, Arthur, p-please—we need to—”

— _talk_. But talking is so far away from his mind right now, it’s laughable.

“Not now.” Arthur flips him over on the chaise, pushing him down into the velvet cushions. He relents as Arthur settles over him and spreads his legs into a wide V.

Arthur parts his cheeks and trails a finger down to his hole. He circles the tight little furl with a finger, making Merlin moan and push his arse back.

Arthur slaps his left cheek lightly. “Be patient.”

“No, Arthur—ahhh—”

Arthur’s mouth is on him, licking a swipe over his arsehole. Merlin shudders and collapses boneless onto the velvet. Arthur kisses him there, and then traces his tongue along the rim of his furl, and then pokes it deep into the heat.

“Oh, Arthur, ohhh, right there—”

Merlin pushes his arse back into Arthur’s face, but Arthur grips his thigh with a strong grip and pulls back. A moment later, Arthur’s finger, wet with spit, pushes into his hole. Merlin wriggles around, gasping at the burn— he’s too dry—

Arthur pushes his finger in to the first knuckle and crooks it a little bit, the tip hitting a soft mound that makes Merlin arch and curse. “There you are, darling,” Arthur says soothingly into his ear, his finger poking and massaging the little bundle of nerves. Merlin’s legs twitch and he stifles his cries into the chaise’s velvet.

“Do it a-already.” Merlin gasps.

Arthur adds another finger, the burn countered by the unspeakable pleasure that courses through him. Not yet,” Arthur says, slightly breathless. He rubs the sweet spot, scrapes lightly at it with his nail, and Merlin chokes and nearly spends himself against right there.

Arthur buries a third finger within him, and before Merlin can do more than curse and push back, even begin to fuck himself on his fingers, Arthur removes them and replaces the space with this thick cock.

Arthur fucks him long and hard, one hand reaching under his body to grope the base of his cock, delaying his orgasm. Sweats dripping all over his body, mingling messily with come, sticking and smearing. The temperature of the room is as hot as a furnace—or maybe that’s just Arthur’s heat as he pushes in and out in and out in out _in out_ without mercy, makes him shudder and twist as his climax isn’t reached—

Arthur strikes that spot inside him on nearly every thrust, making him see stars behind closed eyelids. Before long, he can‘t cry out anymore, his throat is so raw, and he sinks down onto the velvet, letting Arthur fuck the breath out of him. Arthur presses his face into the back of his neck with a whispered endearment, and then releases his cock. Merlin groans hoarsely and comes.

 

Later, when he drowsily comes to, he finds Arthur’s head pillowed on his chest. He feels loose and pliant and there’s deep ache in his arse, but that’s to be expected. Smiling, he brings a hand up and cards through Arthur’s hair. “Hey.”

“What,” Arthur grunts, hiding his face in Merlin’s chest.

“Someone might walk in,” Merlin says softly.

“Nobody comes inside this room except for you.”

Merlin chuckles. “I don’t think I can move, anyways. You broke me.”

Arthur raises his head slightly, so that Merlin can see the hint of a flush on his face before he lowers it abashedly. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It's fine,” Merlin says, and then sighs as melancholy settles in his heart.

Arthur’s hand, which had been lightly slipping through the come on his chest, stops roaming. “I can’t take you with me, Merlin.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, fighting the sudden urge to shove Arthur off the chaise. “You’re not going to win this argument.”

“Oh, yes, I am.” Arthur fixes Merlin with a stern look. “I wasn’t lying. I will tie you to a pillar if I have to.”

“And I’ll cut the bonds and follow you.”

“I’ll tie you to a pillar inside a locked room and station a phalanx of trained palace guards outside the door.”

“I’ll get past them,” Merlin returns sweetly, catching Arthur’s eye. He raises the hand from Arthur’s hair and waggles his fingers. “You know I will.”

Arthur raises himself so that he’s supported on his elbows above Merlin. “I’ll never be rid of you,” he breathes half-exasperatedly, half-fondly, leaning forward to rest his temple against Merlin’s.

Merlin pushes him back, eyes widening. “You’ll let me come?”

“I didn’t say that,” Arthur mutters, looking not-so pleased, but Merlin is going to have none of that. He hooks his arms around Arthur’s neck and pulls him close.

“There’s nowhere else I would be but by your side,” he whispers, and seals the vow with a kiss.

 


End file.
